


Defy Gravity

by Tashilover



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Wings, Wings, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1602227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Crane learned the concept of an airplane, he hated it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A wing!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defy Gravity

"A Lieutenant?" Was the very first thing he said to her. "You were born free?"

This wasn't the first time someone mentioned slavery in front of Abbie. She practically heard it on a daily basis. Men often screamed it at her as she snapped the handcuffs on their wrists. But this was very first time someone said it to her in while wearing a costume, in character, with an actual _accent_ attached to it. "Excuse me?"

"I assume you are," the man, Crane, continued. "For your wings are not clipped."

Now _this_ got to Abbie. She jerked lightly, trying to keep her cool as memories of middle school rose up in her mind. She remembered in history class feeling sick as the horrific tales of the Civil War were told in graphic, bloody detail. Back in the 1800's, it was common practice for White masters to clip the wings of their slaves in order to prevent them from flying. Apparently the only time it was appropriate to actually sever a slave's wings was for harsher crimes. (Like learning to _read_.)

Only slaves who were born free in the North were able to keep their wings unclipped.

And Crane, he said it so fucking casually like it was an everyday occurrence. It took Abbie a second to collect herself. She was not going to lose her job because she decided to throw herself across that desk and strangle this man. Instead, she shook her wings proudly, displaying their strength and said, "Well, let me reassure you, slavery's been abolished for over a hundred and fifty years now. It's a whole new day in America."

 

 

 

 

 

Abbie was not going to deny it: her wings were pretty fucking awesome.

They were an ashy-gray, with black patches near the secondary feathers, displaying the family resemblance. Her sister had the same patches, and Abbie theorized their parents had them too. Often she wondered if she decided to go into the database to look for family patterns, she would finally find her parents. She never did though- she was too afraid of what she'll find.

Her wings were strong and though Abbie was short, she could proudly state she could carry a two hundred pound man if need be. How many officers of her weight and stature could say the same thing? Not even Captain Irving had the same wing muscles as hers.

Crane had some impressive wings himself. Like the gentleman he was brought up to be, he kept his wings tightly close to his back, making them look thinner than what they really were. They were a golden, honeyed brown. Near his shoulders sat his familial pattern, but he kept his wings in so tightly it was hard to see them. It gave the illusion his wings were of one color and they were indeed _beautiful_.

 

 

 

 

 

The very first time Crane learned the concept of an airplane, he hated it.

"Don't the people of this century _fly_ anymore?" He ranted. "Where's your sense of adventure? Where's your sense of wonder? To take to the sky, to see the world as God meant for you to see it! It was bad enough these cars have taken away people's right to walk, but now the modern era has taken our right to fly?"

"Crane, people do fly," Abbie said, shrugging away his outrage. "But even you can't expect someone to fly a hundred miles. The average distance is fifteen."

"It still doesn't change the fact that much of your generation has become _lazy_ ," he hissed. "Your wingspan has shorten from years of disuse. Perhaps in another two hundred years, planes will negate the need to have wings entirely!"

"Actually," Abbie said. "According to what I've read, the Wright brothers studied flight _because_ their sister was born without wings. You can't fault them for wanting their sister to 'see the world as God meant for you to see it.'"

Sometimes when Abbie brought up a logical point in an argument, Crane was humble enough to take a step back, consider the answer, and grudgingly agree with it. He understood the world was different now and certain things were done in order to benefit those who did not have the same privileges he did.

This answer made him pause.

He seemed stricken into silence, and for a moment, Abbie thought she offended him. Was it the way she said it?

"I see," he finally said. His voice was thin, ready to break. Abbie rose from her seat, unsure if she should apologize. "Crane-"

"I need some air," he suddenly announced. He left swiftly, his wings tightly bound to his back, leaving Abbie to bite her thumb as unseated guilt built up in her stomach.

 

 

 

 

 

Abbie didn't see Crane again for two hours. It was fine, Crane was a grown man, he could handle himself. Abbie even shot off a quick text message to him, asking if he was alright. He texted back a curt, _yes_.

It was fine. It was okay.

Except Abbie couldn't help but squirm during his absence. What had she said? What did she do? The time and cultural difference was a a bit of hinderance but it didn't affect them as badly as Abbie thought it did. Maybe she took it a step too far.

As soon as Abbie heard Crane's boots climbing the stairs to the cabin, Abbie stood up, apology at the ready. "Crane-"

"I need to show you something," Crane said.

He indicated to her to sit down. Abbie didn't want to, she felt apologizing was the first priority. Seeing Crane's face, she bit her tongue and sat down, letting her wings to flutter quietly behind her. "What's up?"

The first time she said that months ago, Crane had actually _looked up._ This time around, he understood the meaning. "As you know, I was involved with many missions during the revolution."

He shed his coat. Tossed it over a chair. "Because of my successes, General Washington took notice of me. That's how I came to be under his command."

His hands started loosening the strings on his shirt.

Abbie eyes went big. "Uh... Crane...?"

"However," Crane said, grabbing the collar. "Not every mission was successful," he slipped the shirt off. He tossed that aside too.

Abbie leaned back in her chair, uncomfortable. She had no idea what to do with this impromptu striptease. If his hands went to his trousers, she was going to leave. "What are you-?"

Crane turned around. Abbie's mouth dropped in shock.

For the first time since Abbie has met him, Crane stretched out his wings, displaying them for her to see. In any other situation, Abbie would've thought Crane was trying to seduce her, to show off his wings and thus, his breeding aspects.

Instead, Crane was showing her his _wounds_. At some point in his life, Crane had been beaten and _whipped_. His back was covered in scars, slashes as long as Abbie's forearm ran up and down his flesh, digging in deep. That was not the worse part.

Crane's wings were beautiful. Now fully extended, it was like staring across a field of rich wheat at sunset, golden and bright and strong. Near his shoulders, a small patch of feathers were gone, exposing the scarred flesh underneath.

Someone had cut the first joint on his wings.

"Oh my god," Abbie cupped her mouth, immediately recognizing the wound for what it was.

While Crane could flap his wings, move, stretch them out, the moment he tries to fly, the weight of his own body would be too much and his wings would collapse. If he pushed himself too hard, he could sever his own wing, rendering himself both flightless _and_ hideous. It would've been kinder to cut off his nose.

"It was one of my earliest missions," Crane said, lowering his wings. "I was inexperienced. I was caught and they tried to torture me for information. When they realized I was not a threat, they decided to send me back to my superiors as ...a warning."

Clipping one's wings was one of the worst offenses in the world. Some cultures placed it even higher than murder. Abbie has only seen clipped wings a few times in her life, and it made her sick each and every time.

"Those bastards..." Abbie said, her hand reaching out to Crane's back.

He pulled away before she touched him. He started putting back on his shirt. "It's not an injury I've had for long," he said, still keeping his back to her. "I've yet come to terms that I'll never... fly again."

"Crane, I'm sorry."

No wonder Abbie never saw him fly. No wonder he kept his wings so closely bound to his back no one could see them. As tolerant as the twenty-first century was, too many times Abbie heard cruel words thrown across the room at those who were disabled, at those born without wings.

If Abbie lost her wings or her ability to fly, she didn't know what she would do.

Once Crane shrugged on his coat, effectively hiding where his wings had been permanently clipped, he turned around to face her. "I suppose I should be grateful for the chance to fly again, even in a man-made machine." He tried to pull a smile. "Somehow, I don't think it'll be the same."

 

 

 

 

 

That night, Abbie took flight from her apartment balcony.

Though it wasn't illegal, it was unwise to fly at night. Too many times people ended up on the news for flying into unseen telephone wires and electrocuting themselves to death. Abbie knew this town well enough to avoid all wires. Besides, she wasn't planning to fly that low.

Higher and higher into the black sky she went, the cool air blowing softly all around her. All she could hear were the even beating of her wings, keeping her aloft. At this altitude she should turn on the small strobe light she had strapped to her hip to signal to low flying planes she was here. She kept it off.

Far below she stared at the town of Sleepy Hollow. Everything was so small, so busy, so much life was going on. It was hard to believe for every bright light, there was a person behind that switch. A person who had their own lives, their own pasts and futures. Hundreds of people.

What did this place look like two hundred years ago? What did Crane see when he was at this altitude, and did he have the same thoughts? Abbie read before phone wires and airplanes were a common thing, people partook in night flying all the time. Authors described the experience like watching fireflies dance, as dozens of fliers held lanterns in their hands while they quietly drifted in the dark.

Now the only thing in the sky tonight was her, and a single commercial airplane going towards BWI. Abbie watched the flashing red and white lights move further and further away, signifying the future it was going towards, and the past it was leaving behind.


End file.
